


Edged

by sherlockholmesconsultingvampire



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Butt Plugs, Cock Ring, Coming In Pants, Dominant John, Edging, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Prostate Milking, Restraints, Sensory Deprivation, Sounding, prince's wand, slight BDSM, slight D/s, submissive Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockholmesconsultingvampire/pseuds/sherlockholmesconsultingvampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock, please don't tell me that you're seriously considering this."</p>
<p>Sherlock shot John with an impressed look that clearly said, 'not so unobservant after all', and smirked at the doctor, leaving John with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>"Sherlock..."</p>
<p>"Don't worry, John, I promise not to do anything that will endanger either of us. You'll be the one to administer the pain anyway."</p>
<p>John's mouth fell open, but even he couldn't deny that the idea sounded tempting. His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. "Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better, Sherlock."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edged

In hindsight, asking John Watson for a favour probably wasn't the best idea, when Sherlock Holmes found himself spread eagled and naked on top of their bed, wrists and ankles bound to each corner with leather and metal. The temperature in the flat was far too high, and Sherlock was already sweating even as John opened the windows and returned to secure the plush, dark purple blindfold around his head with precision and care.

All this, he could deal with. Was happy to deal with. That was, until John fastened a cold leather harness around the base of his cock and balls, and clicked it tightly shut. There was no doubt in Sherlock's mind as to what that meant. 

He wasn't going to get to come tonight.

Hindsight was a fucking useless tool.

 

X

 

About a month ago, after a brief but intriguing discussion, Sherlock had informed John of his interest in a new aspect of play that they might introduce into their relationship. It had come about as an accident really, after Sherlock had almost blown the kitchen sink to pieces whilst pouring away leftover chemicals from his current experiment. John had flipped and jumped up from his seat at the table, and promptly pushed Sherlock to the ground, away from the possibly toxic fumes that arose from the now stained and charred sink. Sherlock had fallen hard, hitting his head on the table and his arm on the leg of the chair. A small cut on his forehead caused a trail of blood that ran down his face, and he had an angry red mark on his bicep that was sure to bruise, a slight headache, and a raging erection.

He'd knelt on the floor panting, clutching at his arm whilst John fretted over the blood that was now tinting his vision with crimson as it dripped into his eye. When he looked up at John with wide, lust-blown eyes, John's breath had caught, and he'd leaned in to kiss Sherlock before he could stop himself, his anger soon forgotten. Sherlock had reciprocated with an enthusiasm he'd never felt before, and he'd made up his mind the moment John's teeth caught on his bottom lip and bit down hard.

Sherlock's hands found their way into John's hair, stroking his long fingers through the soft, greying strands. John groaned and smoothed his hands down Sherlock's chest through the silk of his shirt, sending small shockwaves of pleasure through the detective when sharp fingernails skimmed over his nipples. John's hands continued lower until he reached the prominent bulge in Sherlock's trousers, and started to rub the younger man through the fabric. Sherlock keened and threw his head back, already on the verge of coming, though he wasn't sure exactly why. His breathing turned rapid as he felt the beginnings of a powerful orgasm tingling up his spine, and as John leaned forwards and sunk his teeth into the pale skin of his neck, he came hard with a choked off cry.

When the room had come back into focus, Sherlock found himself sitting on the kitchen floor, supported by John, with an increasingly uncomfortable stickiness in his trousers. He grimaced, and started to laugh as the endorphins sparked through his system.

"I just came..." He muttered, his breathing still laboured as he tried to push himself upright.

"Observant as ever," John replied, a mixture of amusement and astonishment clear on his face as he smiled at the detective.

"No, John, I just came... fully clothed. That's never happened before."

"Yes, actually now that you mention it, what exactly just happened? Why did you... you know?" John's eyes narrowed as he saw Sherlock roll his eyes at the question. "And don't get smart, you know what I mean. Why were you... What made you...?"

"If you'd like to finish any of those questions today, John, I'd be happy to answer them," Sherlock muttered with a long suffering sigh. "If you're asking me what exactly it was that caused my arousal, I'm afraid I can't give you an answer without further data. So far all I can theorise is that it happened after you pushed me and the minor injuries I sustained had a different effect than they should have."

John's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you telling me, that you got horny because I hurt you?!"

The detective pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "If you'd like to articulate it like that, then I suppose, the answer is yes. I've never had such a reaction to pain previously, though I've never experienced it with a partner before. It's... interesting." 

"Interesting..." John repeated, trying to not let the disbelief seep into his voice.

John watched Sherlock as he spoke, noticing with slight worry the look of intrigue on the younger man's face. He knew that look. That was Sherlock's, 'requires further data, begin experiment' expression.

Shit. 

"Sherlock, please don't tell me that you're seriously considering this."

Sherlock shot John with an impressed look that clearly said, 'not so unobservant after all', and smirked at the doctor, leaving John with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Sherlock..."

"Don't worry, John, I promise not to do anything that will endanger either of us. You'll be the one to administer the pain anyway."

John's mouth fell open, but even he couldn't deny that the idea sounded tempting. His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. "Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better, Sherlock. Besides, that's a lot of trust to put in another person, why would you trust me not to go too far?"

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes, gripping the leg of the table and pulling himself up to stand. "I trust you completely, John," he said sharply with an edge of annoyance, walking towards the sink and grimacing at the mess left from the small explosion. "Fantastic, my beakers are ruined. It took two weeks for those to be delivered," he muttered angrily, turning on his heel and storming off to the bathroom to shower, pulling the door closed behind him with a bang.

John watched from his spot on the floor and sighed as he stood to clean up Sherlock's mess once again.

 

X

 

"Fuck... John, please," Sherlock gasped, as John's hand continued to work his cock up and down, the self heating lube making his prick burn and his eyes water.

"Sherlock, if you continue to talk, I will gag you. This was your idea, remember?" John threatened, his captain voice making another appearance tonight. Truth be told, he wanted Sherlock to talk, to disobey him. He wanted to see the usually so together man bend and break beneath him, reduced to a tearful mess as he moaned around the ball gag John had purchased earlier that week. 

"But John..." 

"The only word I want to hear from your mouth again tonight, is your safeword. Understood?"

A sob made its way past Sherlock's lips as the younger man fought to hold back his words. He didn't want to safeword; he knew that doing so would get him no closer to what he so desperately needed, but the aching in his balls from the denial to come for so long was becoming unbearable. It had been twelve days since Sherlock's last orgasm, and John had been torturously edging him every night, getting him right to the brink of release and stopping just before he tipped over the edge.

It was maddening.

"Poor boy... I bet these are so sore," John whispered as he rolled Sherlock's balls in his hands, squeezing gently. Sherlock bucked and whimpered at the touch, the blindfold becoming damp with tears. "Maybe we should ease some of the tension, hmmm?"

Yes, fuck, please, Sherlock thought, nodding slightly in agreement. 

The sound of the cap on the bottle of lube seemed far too loud in the quiet room, as John coated his fingers and circled them slowly around Sherlock's entrance. The younger man hissed as John pressed a finger into him slowly, the heat of the lube making the burn that much more intense.

"Too much?" John asked, as he pushed in all the way, halting his ministrations to ensure the detective was okay to continue.

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, before promptly closing it again as John's previous words ran through his mind. He gritted his teeth and shook his head with not a small amount of hesitation. 

John couldn't stop the small spark of disappointment at Sherlock's control, even though he'd passed John's little test with flying colours. He knew it was wrong, but he'd been testing Sherlock's limits for the past week. He wanted to know how far he could push him, how much pain Sherlock could endure, how long he could stay silent for before something snapped and he fell apart in John's hands. 

He couldn't deny that the idea was becoming more and more appealing with every passing day.

"Jo- Ah!" Every muscle in Sherlock's body seemed to tense up as he felt a sharp jolt of pleasure spike through his system when John rubbed at the little bundle of nerves inside him. His breathing quickened and he found himself tugging at the leather that held him tightly in place, the pinch of the restraints helping to ground him and pull him away from the burning in his arse.

The fingers of John's free hand moved up to Sherlock's mouth and inside as the blond pressed down on Sherlock's tongue, and the fingers in his arse stilled again.

"If you need to safeword, I want you to grunt twice. Do it now so I know you understand, Sherlock."

Sherlock blinked rapidly behind the silk and swallowed around the intrusion in his mouth, before acquiescing and taking a few deep, steadying breaths as John continued.

"You are going to be so good for me, aren't you, Sherlock. Because you know what happens when you misbehave. Bad boys don't get rewards."

Sherlock groaned as John's words sent a spike of arousal straight to his cock, and the two fingers in his arse started mercilessly working at his prostate. The burning began to fade as the pleasure increased, and Sherlock started to steadily leak on to his pale stomach; hope fluttered in his chest that he might be allowed to come tonight after all.

His hopes were dashed the second the realisation of what John was doing hit him like a blast of cold water. He could feel where the precome had gathered on his stomach, an abnormal amount considering he wasn't remotely close to orgasm. He knew that John knew exactly what he was doing; had more than likely done the same thing, albeit under much different circumstances, to other men before. He had said he was going to take the edge off...

Fuck.

John was milking him.

A well aimed stroke from John's fingertips elicited a sob from deep within Sherlock's throat, causing a large drop of precome to join the substantial amount that was quickly cooling on his belly. Sherlock keened, his back arching off the bed as he pulled against the cuffs, his breathing ragged and broken. He felt the beginnings of an orgasm tingling up his spine, and for a moment he thought that John would show him mercy, allow him the release he'd been denied for so long as the pressure kept building, higher, faster, and Sherlock felt his balls tighten and his cock throb and...

Fingers wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, squeezing hard, destroying any hint of orgasm as John removed his fingers from Sherlock's body. Sherlock heard the tell-tale signs of John moving from the bed and walking across the room to close the windows, just as a shiver ran through him at the chill that now permeated the air.

The detective lay still, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest as he panted and tried to clear the fog from his vision. The footsteps returned, and Sherlock felt the bed dip as John sat next to him again, shifting to undo the buckles on the leather restraints at Sherlock's wrists, before moving down to his ankles.

"You can talk now, Sherlock. You did so well. I'm very proud of you."

The room became far too bright far too quickly, as the blindfold was gently removed and placed on the small table next to the bed. Sherlock winced and blinked away the brightness, feeling the sting at the back of his eyes as his pupils adjusted, and the burn as fresh tears made their way down his cheeks. He could hear a soft crying from somewhere as he was manoeuvred into a sitting position, and he became vaguely aware that it was coming from him. John's hands were on him then, fingers stroking through the sweat soaked curls that stuck to his forehead as he soothed the younger man with gentle kisses to his stubbled jawline and lips.

"Sherlock? Are you okay?" John whispered against the other's lips, his fingers still combing through dark curls soothingly, the newly discovered dominant side of him hidden away for now. He'd expected some kind of reaction from Sherlock; anger, annoyance, frustration, but not this. He wasn't even sure what this was. "Talk to me, please."

Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed, his eyes unfocused and shining with tears. He lifted his hand, meeting John's and entwining their fingers before squeezing reassuringly.

"I'm alright, John. I... it's just... a little overwhelming," Sherlock muttered, his voice barely audible above the blood rushing in his ears. 

"Do you want to stop? End the experiment? It's fine if..." 

"No," Sherlock said, a little sharper than he intended, before adding quietly, "This isn't an experiment anymore, John. At least not for me."

Cerulean eyes met cobalt blue, and a look of understanding crossed between the two men. It was odd, yet amazing how they'd always been able to communicate with just a look. Sherlock was reminded of that night at the pool, their lives in the hands of a madman, how they had agreed to die together with just one look, and how close they'd come to losing everything that night. He supposed he had Irene Adler to thank for everything they had now. If not for her exemplary timing, they'd more than likely both be six feet under with matching holes in their skulls. 

Strange how things work out.

John smiled and sighed in relief, completely unaware of Sherlock's thought process. He'd surprised himself with how willingly he'd gone along with the experiment, and the thought of ending it so soon was not pleasant one. Sherlock seemed to share the same opinion, much to John's approval, and John couldn't wait to see what other aspects of their relationship they could evolve in the process.

"We'll have a break tomorrow, and continue Friday. Then we can discuss what we both want from this. Okay?"

Sherlock let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and smiled, leaning forwards and resting his head against John's. "Yes, John."

X

The thirteenth day flew by without any mention of the night before, until the sun started to go down, and Sherlock found himself thinking of what tomorrow held in store. The anticipation of ending this part of their game, of finally being allowed to satiate his near constant arousal, was driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to wrap long, pale fingers around his prick and stroke, three, four, five times until the pleasure washed through him and he came over his hand, shuddering with over-sensitivity as he milked himself of every last drop. 

"Sherlock! For Christ's sake, case! Why weren't you..."

Sherlock stilled as John walked into the bedroom, his words cut off as he took in the sight before him. Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion as he followed John's eyes and looked down at himself, at his own fingers under the waistband of his pyjamas, wrapped around the solid length of his cock. He pulled his hand away and stood, taking a couple of steps towards John, his heart pounding in his chest.

"John, I..."

"No, Sherlock. I don't want to hear it. We'll discuss your punishment later but for now, we have a case. Get dressed." John's words were short and sharp, edged with disappointment. Sherlock's heart felt heavy in his chest as he met John's eyes, his own filling with tears as the blond turned on his heel and marched down the stairs.

Sherlock stood ridged, listening to the footsteps as they grew quieter. He had no idea how he'd ended up in this situation. He couldn't remember doing any of it. He'd come upstairs to take a bath whilst John was at the clinic, and then everything else was blank until John had walked in on him. 

Sherlock glanced at the clock; it was 8:47 already, he'd been in the bedroom for over an hour. Fingertips wiped warm tears from his face and he turned towards the chair where he'd placed his clothes from earlier. He shed his pyjamas and quickly dressed, thankful that his erection had finally gone and he could do his buttons up comfortably, before leaving the bedroom and finding John sitting on the arm of the sofa with his arms crossed.

Sherlock cleared his throat before speaking quietly. "You must understand, John. Nothing happened. I didn't-" 

"I don't care, Sherlock. I don't care what did or didn't happen. You knew the rules and you broke them. End of story."

"But John, I didn't know-"

"Enough!" John growled, his patience for Sherlock at it's very end. "Lestrade needs us down at Regent's Park. There's a car waiting for us. I'll see you downstairs."

x

The case turned out to be a simple one. A young man had been found in a tree, dead with no obvious cause, and no evident clues around him. John walked onto the scene first, with a disheartened and distracted Sherlock trailing after him.

"What's wrong with him?" Lestrade muttered, nudging John in the arm. "Thought he'd be happy, he's not had a case the past couple of weeks, has he?"

"He's been..." John paused, trying to find the appropriate word, "...occupied. But apparently not occupied enough."

Lestrade shook his head, his hands waving through the air. "No, forget I asked. Don't wanna go down that path."

"You really don't," John murmured under his breath. "So, what have we got?"

Lestrade nodded at Sherlock in greeting as he caught up to John. Sherlock nodded back and lowered his eyes to the ground, not able to look at John for fear of what he might see in his expression. He crouched down by the body on the ground as Lestrade filled them in.

"Bit unusual, this one. Young guy, between fourteen to seventeen, hard to tell these days with the ridiculous clothes and haircuts. He was found by a man walking his dog a little over an hour ago. Apparently the dog went mad and started barking at the tree. We're not sure how he got up there-"

"He climbed the tree to hide from the people chasing him. He removed his jacket to put over the sharper branches, then put it back on when he sat down, and waited for the group to run past. He was stung on his lower back by a bee that had landed on the jacket. Highly allergic, though he wouldn't have been aware of that before so he'd never been stung previously."

Even through his anger, John couldn't help but let a small smile flit across his lips and he looked at Sherlock with pride in his eyes. "How do you know he was being chased?"

Sherlock pointed to the ground where they had walked into the park. "Scuff marks on the ground, he'd fell in his haste and got mud on his knee. The mark on the grass is overlayed with footprints, at least three different sizes. There are also bruises on his arms that are at least two days old. He was being bullied."

"Brilliant," John breathed, as ever in awe over Sherlock's intelligence. Sherlock smiled sadly at the praise, standing and walking towards the entrance to the park. John turned to him in confusion. "Sherlock? Sherlock, wait." 

Sherlock stilled, his hands clenching at his sides as he felt John's presence next to him. "I wasn't aware of what I was doing, John. Please believe me," he whispered, his eyes closed. He felt a soothing hand on the small of his back, and he let out a shuddering sigh as John pulled him into an embrace. 

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I had an awful shift at the clinic and I took it out on you. I overreacted and said things I didn't mean. I'm sorry, shh," John soothed, his hand now stroking up Sherlock's back, resting at his nape where he gently squeezed. He pulled back, grabbing Sherlock's hand and ignoring the looks from the police officers as they walked back up to Lestrade.

"If you don't need anything else..."

Lestrade shook his head and smiled in understanding. "Go home. We can take it from here. Thanks, Sherlock."

The couple turned and exited the park, walking the short distance back to the flat in comfortable silence, their fingers curled around one another's tightly.

x

After the events of the previous night, Sherlock and John had fallen into bed, neither saying a word to the other, and fallen asleep after soft kisses of reassurance. They woke the next morning in the same position they'd drifted off in, legs tangled together and arms wrapped around each other. 

"Morning," John whispered against Sherlock's lips, his nose brushing the other's lightly.

Sherlock leaned in and closed the tiny space between them, pushing his plush lips against John's, and flicking his tongue to coax John's mouth open enough for him to push inside. The kiss was slow, lazy, and wonderful, just like most of their mornings, and Sherlock sighed happily as he felt the first stirrings of arousal low in his abdomen. His hips moved of their own accord and pushed forwards against John, his cock sliding against John's as they both grew hard together, the friction beyond perfect. Sherlock's eyes flew open as he realised what day it was, and John seemed to click at the same time as a devilish smile adorned his lips.

"Go and shower, quickly, then come back here. You have ten minutes. Turn your phone off."

Sherlock swallowed and nodded nervously, unsure of what John had planned for him. He climbed from the bed and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and turning the shower on, allowing the water to heat before he stepped in. 

 

John smiled to himself as he slipped from under the covers, making his way up the stairs to his old room. He opened the wardrobe and pulled out the box from the bottom, carrying it to the bed and flicking the combination lock to the correct code. He'd chosen the code carefully, making sure that the four numbers for the lock held no significance to either of the men; the only way Sherlock could get the right code would be trial and error, and John was confident that Sherlock would get bored before he managed to get it right.

Excitement pooled in John's stomach as he flipped the lid open, looking at the contents of the box and smiling to himself as he imagined Sherlock's reaction to what he had planned. His cock throbbed in anticipation as he pulled a few supplies from the box, getting everything ready before taking it downstairs to place in the top drawer ready for Sherlock.

 

Sherlock washed quickly and thoroughly, avoiding his aching cock as much as possible; he was so aroused, he was afraid the lightest touch would set him off, and he didn't want to disappoint John again. He scrubbed his skin roughly; every part of him felt over-sensitized and he wasn't sure he could last long once John started. He stepped from the shower and wrapped a large towel around his waist, then made his way back into the bedroom to find John sitting on the end of the bed.

John's eyes flickered over Sherlock's body; the water than dripped from his hair down his neck, the peaked nipples from the cool air of the room, the flat stomach, and the enticing V that led down to where the towel was tenting obscenely. A pink blush spread up Sherlock's chest and neck at John's gaze, and his prick pulsed in arousal, causing the towel to shift and John to adjust his own cock in his boxers.

"Come here, I want you lying on your back. I need you completely still for what I have planned, do you want to use the restraints?"

"I..." Sherlock stuttered, his heart hammering in his chest. "You're letting me decide?"

John smiled softly as he stood from the bed and walked towards his lover. "Sherlock..." He started, unsure of how to phrase what he needed to say. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, John."

"Completely?"

"John, this is tedious-"

"No, Sherlock, it's important. Do you trust me completely?" John held Sherlock's gaze, his expression serious. Sherlock swallowed and nodded his head almost imperceptibility.

"Yes, John, I trust you completely. I'd like the restraints, please."

John sighed, a phantom weight lifted off his shoulders. "Good. Lie down, on your back, arms and legs out."

Sherlock removed the towel, his erection bouncing proudly as he followed the instructions to the letter and lay on top of the sheets. John climbed onto the bedding and knelt beside him, attaching the leather restraints to Sherlock's wrists and ankles once more.

"Now, I don't want you to know what I'm going to do before I do it, but if at any point you are unsure or you want things to stop for a while, I want you to use the safeword 'yellow'. If things become too intense and you want things to end completely, say 'red'. Repeat that back to me so I know you understand."

"If I need a break, it's 'yellow', to stop, it's 'red'," Sherlock breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. John had finished with the restraints now, and he pulled gently against the bonds to test the hold. He wasn't going anywhere. He closed his eyes as he let the freeing feeling of submission wash over him, and jumped when he felt the blindfold over his eyes again. 

"John?"

"It's just to stop you seeing what I'm doing, it should heighten everything you feel. In a moment, I'm going to pop some earplugs in, is that okay, Sherlock?"

Sherlock felt his breathing pick up as he realised what John was up to. Sensory deprivation. He'd read about it before, and he'd liked the idea, but now that it was happening, he felt the nerves clawing at his insides. He nodded hesitantly and took a few steadying breaths as he felt John shift on the bed. 

"Okay, after this, you won't be able to hear me. If you need to safeword, do it. I won't be mad or upset, but I need to know that you're okay. Do you understand?"

"Yes, John."

John smiled down at the younger man as he pulled the earplugs from the drawer, gently pushing them into Sherlock's ears one at a time before leaning over the detective and whispering, "Sherlock," to see if the man responded. When Sherlock didn't so much as flinch, John stood from the bed and drank in the sight before him.

Sherlock was spread across the sheets, arms and legs pulled taut, skin already covered in a fine sheen of sweat despite the cold chill in the air. The purple blindfold contrasted beautifully against the paleness of his skin, and his cock lay hard and heavy against the toned muscles of Sherlock's abdomen. The sight was so beautiful, that John almost felt guilty about what he was going to do to him.

Almost.

After fumbling through the drawer for two things he needed for the next part, John climbed back onto the bed and straddled Sherlock's thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin to soothe the detective's nerves. He leaned forwards and gently took Sherlock's prick in hand, and picking up the small bottle of medical grade lubricant he'd taken from the clinic, squirted a liberal amount onto the tip of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock gasped at the cold sensation, and shuddered as John spread the lube over and around the slit, mixing it with the precome that was starting to drip onto his stomach. He felt the bed dip on one side as John reached over to pick something up, and his breath caught in his throat as he felt something cold and solid being pressed gently against the tiny opening. The pressure slowly continued to build, until it gave way and the strangest sensation Sherlock had ever felt in his life rushed through his cock, a slight burn accompanied by a tingling yet torturous pleasure, and Sherlock whimpered when he felt something cold snap in place under the head of his cock, securing everything in place.

John had watched fascinated as he'd pushed the prince's wand in, and now with the sight of Sherlock below him, his cock impaled and secured with steel and his breathing laboured, John was pretty sure he was harder than he'd ever been in his life. He couldn't believe that Sherlock had taken it so well; he'd half expected him to safeword during that part of the day's events. John leaned forwards, hands pressed against Sherlock's chest as he pressed his lips against Sherlock's in a tender kiss, his way of asking Sherlock if he was okay. He felt Sherlock respond beneath him, his impaled cock twitching eagerly against John's stomach, and John moaned into the kiss, his fingernails gently teasing Sherlock's nipples. Sherlock stifled a cry and threw his head back into the pillow, breaking the kiss and exposing the perfect column of his throat for John to kiss and suckle as he bucked beneath him. 

John sat back on Sherlock's legs after sucking a deep purple love bite on the pale skin of Sherlock's throat, the colour almost matching that of the blindfold, beautiful and marked as John's. He turned and loosened the straps at Sherlock's ankles, slipping them off and pushing the younger man's legs up as far as they would comfortably go; strong hands held Sherlock's thighs in place as John bent forwards and licked tentatively at the sensitive skin of Sherlock's arsehole, and Sherlock gasped, hands clenching as the leather creaked under the strain. 

When John felt Sherlock start to relax underneath him, he stiffened his tongue, pushing inside the tight heat of Sherlock's body; Sherlock tried to buck but was pinned by John's hands. He was completely powerless to do anything, the exquisite torture getting him closer and closer to the brink of something amazing. Pleasure spiralled up Sherlock's spine, and his cock pulsed in time with his heartbeat, red and angry against his pale stomach as John continued his ministrations. 

Just when Sherlock felt the first stirrings of an orgasm, John pulled away, leaving Sherlock panting and writhing on the sheets as John grabbed the next toy from the drawer. He picked up the lube and poured some onto his fingers, making sure to coat his index and middle finger completely before pressing both against Sherlock's hole and pushing in. His free hand made its way to Sherlock's chest to press down just as the detective bucked up, and John started thrusting his fingers in slowly, avoiding Sherlock's prostate and concentrating on stretching the man for his next surprise.

Sherlock keened under John's talented fingers, his prick aching terribly as it longed for something so unattainable whilst the prince's wand was in place. His breath caught as John pulled his fingers out without warning, and pressed something firm and smooth against him. His nose crinkled in confusion as he felt the cold rubber breach his body; he was almost certain that John was going to fuck him, but he felt every inch of the toy as he was stretched around it, before it narrowed near the base and stilled. He realised immediately that it was a plug, but he didn't anticipate what kind as the toy started to vibrate inside him, small pulses that sent shockwaves of pleasure through his nerves as John twisted the dial up full.

Sherlock was panting heavily now, his entire body trembling from the effects of John's attentions. The sheets below him were soaked with sweat, but Sherlock couldn't bring himself to care as John climbed over him again and seemed to shift above him for a moment, before Sherlock let out a high pitched moan of sheer ecstasy as his plugged cock was engulfed in tight, wet heat. The sensation was so intense that if not for the wand, Sherlock was certain he'd have come the second John sank down on him.

"Holy... fucking hell, Sherlock," John gasped, his breath catching in his throat as the steel rim from the plug rubbed against his prostate as he sank fully onto Sherlock. The detective had stilled beneath him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest the only indication that Sherlock was still concious. John lifted himself up slowly, and lowered again, feeling every inch of Sherlock's cock as he began a steady rhythm of up and down, up and down, his fingers moving to pinch the hardened nipples beneath him. Sherlock whimpered, his head pressed back into the pillow and every muscle tensed as John rode him, until John leaned forwards and pressed their lips together in a deep kiss. 

"Need... need you, Sherlock," John muttered against plush lips, his cock dripping heavily onto Sherlock's stomach. A wave of pleasure pulsed through him as he felt the beginnings of a powerful orgasm firing through his nerves, and he took himself in hand and squeezed the base of his cock to stave off his release; lifting off of the younger man, he carefully adjusted the ring around Sherlock's prick and very, very gently pulled the wand out, watching Sherlock closely for any indication of pain. Sherlock groaned at the sensation; it almost felt like he was coming as the wand slid out smoothly, and then fingers were removing the earplugs from his ears and undoing the silk ties on the blindfold, and Sherlock's eyes opened to the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen in his life.

John Watson looking down at him, with utter devotion in his eyes.

Sherlock couldn't stop the tears that threatened to spill at the realisation of how much he loved the man above him. His mouth quirked up in a small smile as he felt an overwhelming sense of peace at the thought; he could spend the rest of his life with this man. He would, if John would allow it. John's fingers raised to the stubbled skin of Sherlock's jaw, stroking gently as he pressed soft kisses to Sherlock's lips, his other hand reaching down between them to press Sherlock's cock at his entrance again. He nibbled Sherlock's lip lightly as he sank back down, eliciting a deep groan from both men as John rolled his hips, quick, shallow thrusts that had John panting against Sherlock's neck. He bit down hard, sucking a matching bruise beneath the now darkening mark on Sherlock's neck, and came with Sherlock's name on his lips as he felt the younger man tense and pulse deep inside him, his hips thrusting up as much as possible with the restraints and John's weight on his thighs.

John shuddered with the aftershocks of his orgasm as he stilled above Sherlock, his face buried in the crook of the other's neck. Sherlock whimpered as John's muscles continued to twitch around him, milking his cock as his orgasm continued in small pulses, his face tingling with pins and needles as he slipped out and exhaled shakily, the tears finally escaping his eyes. He felt completely drained, physically and mentally, and all he wanted to do in that moment was sleep.

His eyes opened as he felt John next to him, wiping them both down with a warm towel and tossing it on the floor before falling into bed and flinging an arm over Sherlock's chest, feeling the pounding of his heart as it started to return to its normal pace. He lay still for a while, his thumb stroking over the soft hair on Sherlock's chest as he rested his lips against the other's shoulder and kissed reverently. 

"Sherlock, are you alright? Was that... okay?" John whispered, the uncertainty clear in his voice.

Sherlock turned to face John as John thumbed the tears from his cheeks. "It was perfect, John. You were perfect. Thank you."

John sighed and seemed to relax, shifting on the sheets to press a little closer to Sherlock, tangling his legs with the detective's. "I was worried, when I saw the tears I thought..."

"Just a reaction. I'm fine, John. I promise. It was... overwhelming, but incredible all the same," Sherlock assured, planting a chaste kiss to John's lips. "More than enough data for my experiment," he added with a wink, yelping awkwardly as John poked a sharp finger in his ribs.

"So that's all this was then, hmm? Just an experiment?" John asked teasingly, eyes narrowed as he tried to hide his yawn in the pillow.

Sherlock caught the yawn and quickly followed suit, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him. "Of course, John. Why else would I partake in such ghastly activities for pleasure when there's important data to be obtained?" 

John hummed happily as his eyes closed, entwining his fingers with Sherlock's. "Hmm, why indeed."


End file.
